


Reel You In

by swampslip



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Coming In Pants, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grinding, M/M, Power Imbalance, Pre-Canon, Re-upload, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27812632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swampslip/pseuds/swampslip
Summary: “You gonna let go now?” And it draws Arthur’s gaze to his hand, curled, white-knuckle, around the gold chain.Arthur breathes in, quick and angry.The cold burns his throat.“No,” The younger finally says.“No?” Dutch asks.“No. I ain’t lettin’ go.”“Alright,” Dutch stretches the word out.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Reel You In

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo bringing some old vandermorgan back as i edit it  
> arthur's about early 20s here pre-john  
> picture him young but not like that weird photo maybe just a lil cheekbonier

Arthur’s on watch, camp is… Small right now. 

Just him, Hosea, and Dutch. 

They’d made nice with a couple from the East and a group of women from a nearby town, but there’d been friction, and ultimately everyone up and left. 

It was a little discouraging, Dutch always had these big plans about the three of them leading a sizable band of misfits and mavericks. 

Everyone they’d picked up so far... Had left. 

“Head on in, Arthur, I’ve got this,” Hosea says from behind him and Arthur jumps down from his perch in the cottonwood. 

He smiles at Hosea and tips his hat before scurrying eagerly for the main tent. 

He’d been wanting to talk to Dutch all day.

He slips in silently and Dutch’s back is to him. 

The older man leaning over a makeshift table, two big crates and an old plank of wood. 

“Hey,” Arthur drawls and comes up next to his leader. 

Dutch’s head reels back in surprise and he meets Arthur’s gaze with eyes so tired Arthur’s chest aches. 

“Arthur,” Dutch says quietly, like he’s surprised. 

“What? What’s that look ‘bout?” 

“Oh,” Dutch laughs softly, shaking his head and looking back down to the table, “Nothing. What do you need?” 

“Nothin’,” Arthur echoes, frowning, “I just wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine, Artie.”

“Sure,” Arthur says, and it’s angry. 

Dutch’s eyes close and his face scrunches up in what looks like annoyance so Arthur sighs and turns to leave. 

“I had a dream… A nightmare. You left. Hosea left, and it was just us and I couldn’t handle it all… I failed us and you _left_ ,” Dutch says, quick and quiet, scared and Arthur stays frozen for a moment, “That… _That_ is my worst nightmare.” 

Arthur thaws and pivots on his heel to face Dutch, who is now facing him. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dutch says.

“I don’t… I don’t understand. It didn’t work out, s’not your fault, Dutch.” 

“It is!” Dutch surges up, shoulders thrown back like he’s about to fight. 

“No… No, it ain’t,” Arthur says softly. 

“You-” Dutch snorts and looks back at the table, Arthur follows his gaze. 

On the table is a couple of things, a big map of an area Arthur doesn’t recognize, a place called Yellow Tack, a leaflet, advertising a ranch… in Yellow Tack. 

And a big ol’ price tag. 

A few too many zeros. 

“You wantin’ to settle down?” 

“No, not settle down, but have a home base? A property to house everyone, we could farm our own food, raise our own horses,” Dutch’s eyes flick over the drawings of the house. 

It’s awful big. 

“Why do we need that many rooms?” Arthur asks. 

“When… If the gang grows… I want people to stick around. I’m trying to build you- _Us_ a family.” 

“Dutch… Hosea’s been able to teach me er’thing I need to be a functionin’ man, all the readin’, writin’, propriety and society studyin’,” Arthur quirks his mouth to the side. 

“Hosea’s a good man,” Dutch replies, a hoarse whisper.

“That don’t mean… He ain’t-” Arthur sucks his teeth in frustration, tastes the stale muffin Dutch’d snagged him that morning. 

He hears coyotes howling in the distance, he’s never been good with split-second decisions. 

Arthur reaches out and hooks two fingers behind one of the chains on Dutch’s waistcoat, yanking the older man close. 

Dutch is looking at him, surprise and confusion, hurt and hope. 

“ _He ain’t you._ No one’s _you_ , Dutch,” Arthur says, all teeth and touchiness. 

He says the words like it’s a sin to think otherwise, like Dutch had betrayed him just by devaluing himself. 

Dutch blinks several times then cocks his head to peer under the brim of Arthur’s hat. 

Arthur’s eyes are full of unshed, angry tears. 

“Thank you, Arthur.” 

Arthur scoffs then the younger man’s head whips away, glaring at nothing, anything but Dutch’s rapidly softening eyes. 

“Arthur?” 

“What?” Arthur hisses.

“You gonna let go now?” And it draws Arthur’s gaze to his hand, curled, white-knuckle, around the gold chain. 

Arthur breathes in, quick and angry. 

The cold burns his throat. 

“No,” The younger finally says. 

“No?” Dutch asks.

“No. I ain’t lettin’ go.” 

“Alright,” Dutch stretches the word out. 

Arthur takes another deep breath then rips his hat off his head with his other hand, tossing it further into the tent before gripping Dutch’s shoulder and holding the older man still. 

They stare at each other, and Dutch doesn’t look quite as tired. 

Arthur feels a swell of pride at the spark he’s returned to Dutch’s eyes- 

Then he feels the desperation to keep it there. 

“I’m seeing your cogs turning, but I ain’t seeing your endgame, Arthur.” 

“Workin’ on it, Dutch.” 

“Alright,” Dutch placates, the older man holding perfectly still in the position Arthur’s dragged him into. 

Their chests are almost touching, the couple lanterns in the room casting shadows over the sides of their faces. 

Arthur’s hand is warm, trapped between their bellies, safe from the brisk night air. 

He kisses Dutch. 

It’s quick, a little scared and a lot hesitant, but wholehearted. 

Dutch’s whole body tenses and Arthur can feel it against his hands. He barely pulls back. 

“This,” Arthur’s voice cracks, “This alright?” 

“If you’re sure,” Dutch whispers, “Only if.”

“... Yes, Sir,” Arthur murmurs, gone shy. 

Dutch sniffs sharply at the title then lifts his hands up to Arthur’s head, one cupping his jaw and the other guiding from his nape. 

Arthur meets the older man’s honeyed eyes and his fingers twitch on Dutch’s shoulder. 

Arthur’s eyes are bright and wide-open when Dutch leans in and presses his lips gently to Arthur’s softer, smoother ones. 

Dutch knows Arthur’s fooled with girls, and he thinks he caught the younger coming out of an alley with another young man once, both disheveled in a way that spoke of fighting or fucking.

Arthur ain’t a prude, and the younger knows better than to buy into the ‘save it for the one’ schtick, but Dutch doesn’t know how far he’s gone, especially with another man. 

Dutch maneuvers them so Arthur’s backside _just_ hits the rickety table. 

He lifts Arthur up onto it, surely wrinkling the papers. 

But Arthur’s worth a couple wrinkles in the plan.

Dutch lays the younger out and pulls back to look at him, standing between Arthur’s forced-apart thighs. 

There’s a cherry-pink flush on Arthur’s cheeks, bringing out the flecks of green in his eyes.

Dutch puts a hand on Arthur’s belly as Arthur settles, only for his abdomen to flex and thighs to grip tight on either side of Dutch’s hips. 

And Arthur’s still holding onto the chain. 

“Got a fixation, there, Arthur?” Dutch gestures to the chain with his free hand. 

Arthur’s flush is spreading down the speckling of a Five-O’clock shadow, down his neck, underneath his collar but Arthur doesn’t let go.

Rubs the chain between his fingers and then uses it to, again, reel Dutch in closer. 

“Thought about doin’ that since you started wearing the damn things.” Arthur murmurs. 

Dutch relishes in the heat, from the confession, and the press of their bodies, connected at the hips. 

“That’s an awful dirty thought for such an innocent accessory, boy,” Dutch murmurs roughly, ever marveling at his boy. 

“I’d agree with that, sir,” Arthur says, voice pitched a little higher and Dutch can see the tremble in his body, the exertion of holding oneself back. 

Dutch moves his hand from Arthur’s belly down to the connectors of Arthur’s suspenders and undoes the clips one-handed. 

His other hand goes to Arthur’s outer thigh, hitching the leg attached higher against his hip, forcing their bodies closer. 

Arthur’s head flies back in response to the contact, cracking hard against the table and they both freeze at the sound. 

Arthur closes his eyes and Dutch listens carefully for the noises of Hosea coming to check on them. 

After a moment, when the night remains mostly quiet, Arthur relaxes and rolls his hips once against Dutch’s. 

Dutch yanks Arthur’s shirts out from being tucked in the younger’s pants, making Arthur’s suspenders splay outwards. 

The younger man hisses at Dutch’s cool fingers on his bared stomach, closing his eyes and wriggling against the older man. 

Dutch lets out a small rumbling noise and Arthur bites down on a desperate sound, quietly humming in response. 

Dutch slides the hand on Arthur’s thigh behind the younger man’s backside and encourages the rolling motion Arthur had started. 

“Shit, _Dutch_ ,” Arthur gasps as Dutch moves them slow and firm, each press like a live wire through Arthur’s core. 

They move _together_ , Dutch keeping the pace slow until Arthur’s hips are twitching between rolls and he’s biting down on hand to keep the whining dulled, his other hand yanks on Dutch’s chain. 

Dutch snaps their hips together hard, once and keeps them pressed together, just to see how Arthur would respond. 

He’s rewarded with a muffled moan and then a curse as Arthur breaks his own skin. 

Dutch coos and pulls Arthur’s hand up and away, tangling their fingers together. 

He presses their mouths together, tastes the blood on Arthur’s tongue and teeth while Arthur’s hips stutter and the younger whimpers into his mouth, reaching his peak. 

When Arthur quiets and practically melts into the table, going lax, Dutch pulls back, lingering with a few light kisses over Arthur’s face that make the younger squirm. 

Then Dutch helps Arthur sit up and slowly stand, Arthur’s eyes brighter blue than any desert sky. 

“You didn’t…” Arthur trails off, peering down Dutch’s body before his eyes skitter away, shy, and Dutch smiles. 

Takes Arthur’s chin in hand, forcing those bright eyes up. 

“I’m _perfect_ , Arthur. Thank you,” Dutch murmurs and Arthur tries to duck his head but the hand prevents it, “I mean it. Now go get cleaned up, and get some rest. I’ve got big plans for tomorrow.” 

\--  
  
They don’t talk about it the next morning, Dutch only instructs him to ready their horses and wait for him at the edge of camp. 

As they start riding, Dutch settles Arthur’s hat back atop the younger man’s head and Arthur ducks his head violently to hide the blush that flares on his face.

Takes off towards their next adventure, Dutch’s laughter echoing behind him. 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)   
>  [horny twitter](https://www.twitter.com/swampslip)   
>  [tumblr](https://providentialeyes.tumblr.com)


End file.
